Page 28 of Ace

"You forced my hand," he says, going to the sink to wash his hands. They're covered with the powder from my compact that he destroyed, looking for more tracking and listening devices. "I can't give all my attention to Sadie's case if you're going to interfere. At a minimum, it's going to put us behind when we're already working a several-week-old cold case, but it also puts you in a position to end up with the same fate as her."

My chin quivers with his words because it sounds like they think instead of her just missing or being a brat like William suspects, something terrible has happened to her.

I point to the destroyed devices on the counter. "Why do they do that? Am I in danger?"

"Places like that don't like being threatened. They bug people to get secrets. Some use it against their clients, extorting them or blackmailing them. Some do it to even the playing field. It keeps people from having loose lips. Those places can only stay operational if the existence of them is more smoke and mirrors rather than actual places. Knowing an organization might have information on you keeps people from opening their mouths. I doubt you're in any danger, but it will be obvious that you're someone of interest when they go to listen and discover their devices have been removed, and the same for me. Twice in one night forms a link between the two of us that may not go unnoticed."

"I had no idea."

"I know. Most people wouldn't, but it's why you need to go back to South Carolina and let me do the job you hired me to do."

"The membership is ten grand," I say stupidly. "You paid ten grand to come make sure I wasn't hurt?"

He shakes his head. "Youpaid ten grand for me to make sure you weren't hurt."

"I never saw you," I snap. "How is that making sure I'm not hurt?"

He shrugs as if ten grand is something he spends every day, and maybe, while working, he does. It doesn't affect him because it isn't his money.

"While you're sitting wherever, watching the front of that house, my sister could be inside getting hurt."

He shakes his head. "Doubtful. If Sadie were there, which we don't think she is, she wouldn't be there against her will. It isn't that type of place."

"How do you know that?" I demand. If Sadie isn't there, then why are they wasting their time sitting on the house?

"Sadie isn't the type of client they let through the front door. I'm sure she doesn't have a membership and they aren't the type of place they let just anyone walk up and enter so they can go snuggle with a woman they don't know in some strange bed. It's hard to hear, but junkies can't keep their mouths shut. They'll rat on anyone for a fix. If she was in their possession against her will, they'd have her at a different location, one that caters to that sort of thing."

I raise my eyebrows. He just said so much and there's a lot to unpack, but I don't like hearing that although Sadie might not be there, she could be somewhere else where they could be hurting her.

But also, cuddling? Jesus, I hope he doesn't ask me what I picked from the menu. My face grows hot with the thought.

"Furthermore," he continues. "Before you even ask, we're following everyone who leaves that place to see if they will lead us to the places that cater to the darker stuff. Stay out of our way, Ms. Preston. We can't help your sister if we have to waste energy and resources keeping you out of trouble."

I don't miss the way his eyes sweep down my body once more before he turns and leaves the room.

Chapter 13

Ace

Despite knowing how this works from years and years of experience, I can't help but think that I'm wasting my time just sitting here watching this damn live feed of Daydreamer's Spa. Maybe Cora Preston got in my head, and I hate even considering that.

There have been many times in my career when I've felt invalidated, as if the effort I put toward a case is nothing but a waste of time because the information rolling in is pointless or too slow. This case is no different.

I know how it works. We follow the clients from one place to the next, but there's always the chance that the men wait days or even weeks before they go somewhere else that we'd consider deviant, which may lead to the disappearance of a lost girl.

Feeling this way doesn't stop me from researching every car and person that passes across the video feed. They'll lead us somewhere at some point. These types of investigations always take us to another location, but there's always the chance that it won't have anything to do with Sadie Preston.

Things like this is the entire reason I reached out to Kincaid to start up this new program, working cases here in the United States. There are so many stateside facilities that are hurting people. A lot of these women aren't trafficked outside of the US until they consider them used up and toodamaged to earn as much money as they did in the beginning. People seen as a commodity rather than humans make me sick to my stomach.

Despite most being held here until they're no longer useful, women like Sadie, the ones with a name and people behind them who care where they went are nothing but trouble. There are two possible scenarios, not including the one where Sadie went to a flop house, overdosed, and is in a shallow grave in some crackhead's backyard.

One possible chance is that she was abducted by someone who knows who she is and moved her out of the US quickly. The other is that someone grabbed her without the resources to know who she is and how much trouble she could be to them. We hope for the latter, of course, because that would mean there's a chance she's closer.

Either way is awful, and I'm not discounting that, but the closer she is, the more likely it'll be that we find her. But only if the trail of these men leads us in that direction.

I pull out my phone and call Kincaid. I told him I'd keep him up to date on the case, but two calls in less than twenty-four hours feel excessive even to me.

I forgot how lonely this kind of work was. Before, as a supervisor, I could make the rounds and check in with my agents. I'm all alone on this one, and I need a distraction. My mind keeps drifting back to trying to understand why a woman would pack a silk fucking robe to go look for her sister.

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